


Close-Knit

by perniciousLizard



Series: Fired Up and Bone Weary [11]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Clothes swap, M/M, Post-Pacifist Route, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousLizard/pseuds/perniciousLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans should know better than to forget his hoodie at Grillby's place. </p>
<p>A couple of stories about sharing clothes.  They are not very long.  You could call them <i>a pair of shorts</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grillby

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was: Grillby wears Sans’ hoodie all day and Sans thinks it’s really sweet but doesn’t want to tell him that.
> 
> Thank you for the suggestion, [demydems](http://demydems.tumblr.com/)!

It had been one of the mornings when Sans didn’t really wake up.  Sure, he got out of bed, drank coffee and ate breakfast, but Grillby was positive Sans was still asleep when he left to meet his brother for lunch.  

Grillby confirmed this when he spotted Sans’ hoodie on the couch, where he had forgotten it.  He had somehow managed to walk out the door without the shirt he wore every single day of his life.  

Lately they had been watching old black and white human horror movies, specifically the ones featuring badly made fake skeletons.  Those movies made Sans laugh until his voice got husky and his throat cracked when he tried to speak.  Sans acted exactly like one of _those_ skeletons when he first got up, Grillby decided.  

He picked up the sweater by the hood and examined it.  It was actually a little too big for Sans, but that was probably what made it so comfortable.  It was like the shirt equivalent of his slippers.  

Grillby set it back down on the couch, took a few steps, and then stopped. He slowly turned back.  It _was_ a little big on Sans, wasn’t it?  

He picked up the hoodie again and slipped it on.  It fit, easily.  He pulled the hood over his head and zipped up the shirt.  Did he ever wash this?  It smelled like ketchup.  

He patted at the pockets and found them stuffed with condiment packets, bits of paper with illegible notes written on them, two whoopee cushions (one for each pocket), and Sans’ cell phone.  He really hadn’t been with it that morning. 

Grillby tried to unlock the phone, but Papyrus’ birthday didn’t work as a password and that was his only idea.  He got his own phone and sent a message to Papyrus, telling him to let Sans know he’d forgotten half his things at Grillby’s apartment.  

The restuarant was closed and it was his “day off,” so Grillby cleaned up his apartment and then started in on the mountains of paperwork that seemed to come along with owning a restaurant in the human world.  He still had Sans’ shirt on when he went downstairs to the restaurant to check his inventory.  

He was halfway inside the freezer, the one he kept human food in, when a bony finger tapped his back.  

“hey.”

Grillby started and melted half the food in front of him.  

“whoops. thought you’d hear me come in.  bro said you had my phone.”

Grillby pulled it out of the pocket of Sans’ shirt and handed it over, and then stuck his head back in the freezer.  He was probably going to have to throw some of this away, now.  Human food was a pain to deal with.  

“uh.”

Grillby started taking out the food that had been closest to him when Sans surprised him.  Maybe he would just bring it upstairs and use it for himself.  You weren’t supposed to re-freeze human food.  

“uh, that’s my…”  

Grilllby handed Sans the items that were the warmest and took the rest himself.  Sans trailed after him as he went upstairs.  

They dumped the food on the counter of Grillby’s kitchen, and Grillby started sorting through it.  

“um.  hey, uh.”  

Grillby tipped his head to the side, curious.  

“yeah, never mind.”  He laughed, a little, like he had just noticed a joke.  

Grillby shrugged and started getting out the ingredients he would need to actually make a meal out of the random items he had completely defrosted.  

“you look good.”  

Grillby nodded.  The shirt was actually very comfortable.  He knew he would have to give it back eventually, but it was his free day, so it didn’t matter that much what he was wearing.  

Sans left to pick up Frisk from school, and when he came back Grillby was watching television.  He still had the hoodie on.  Sans started to say something, and then seemed to change his mind.

“…there is plenty to eat,” Grillby said, gesturing at the kitchen.  

“ok.”

When Sans sat down next to him, he had a plate.  Grillby had the channel switched to Mettaton’s cooking show, and he was shaking his head at it in disapproval.  

Sans reached over and pulled the hood back up over Grillby’s head, and Grillby pretended he didn’t notice.  He left it there.  

Sans finished his dinner and set the plate down on the coffee table. Grillby felt Sans’ stare.  He was probably going to have to give it back soon.  

The couch shifted and Sans was suddenly on his lap, his expression unreadable.  Sans reached into one of the hoodie’s pockets and started rummaging around.  "my keys in here?  no?  must’ve left ‘em at the house.“  

Grillby found them in the other pocket and handed them over.  

"you’re being kinda nosy for a guy with no nose,” Sans said.  "am i getting this back, ever?“

"…oh, did you want it back?“ Grillby asked, innocent.  

Sans snorted and pressed his face against Grillby’s shoulder.  "i mean, at some point.”  

Grillby nodded and started to unzip it, but Sans put his hand over Grillby’s, stopping him.  

“might as well leave it on.  i’ll just remember it tomorrow morning.  not like you’re sleeping in it.”

Sans underestimated him, but he nodded.  

“any of your old boyfriends ever tell you, grillbz–” he broke off.  

“…yes?”

Sans shook his head.  "nah.  never mind.“  He leaned back.  "oh, hey.”  He got out his phone.  "say cheese.“  

"…" He heard the camera take its picture.  

"nice.” Sans put the phone away, and then rested his head back on Grillby’s shoulder.  He apparently intended to stay there.  Grillby put an arm around him and let him fall asleep where he was.  


	2. Sans

“…there’s no use trying to save it, Sans,” Grillby said.  "…it’s done.“  He stepped away.  The cloth in his hand was stained bright red.  

Sans could have stopped it from happening.  He just hadn’t cared enough. Grillby had only made it worse, trying to fix it.  

Welp.  At least he didn’t like this shirt that much.  He pulled it up over his head and rolled it up in a ball and tossed it over near where he’d left his shoes.  "oh well.   _shirt_ happens.”  He wished it had been intentional.  

Grillby went to put his rag in the laundry and came back with one of his own shirts.  He tossed it in Sans’ lap.

“uh.” Sans looked down at his bare ribs.  "nothin you haven’t seen before, grillbz.“  Even before they were dating, Sans would sometimes just not bother to wear a shirt under his coat.  Sometimes a skeleton just had to let the breeze hit his bones.  

Grillby shrugged.  

"guess i wouldn’t want to get goose bumps.  there’s a real risk.  i could get chilled to the bone.”  He held the shirt up.  It was just one of Grillby’s hundred or so white button ups.  Sans thought back, trying to remember the last time he buttoned a shirt.  Was it that date he borrowed Frisk’s suit for?  

Maybe Grillby just missed seeing him get all fancy.  He was about to be pretty disappointed, because this one was even bigger than the badly fitting one he’d gotten from the kid.  

He put one arm in a sleeve and could almost see the tips of his fingerbones.  

Grillby was watching him, not saying anything, his expression unreadable.  

“uh. tone it down there, bud,” Sans said.  He tugged the shirt the rest of the way on, shoved the sleeves up, and started buttoning it. This kind of shirt was more work than it was worth.  

Grillby proved it by leaning down and adjusting Sans’ collar for him.  

“better?” Sans asked.  He moved his arm and the sleeve slid back down again. He rolled it up, this time, and then the other one.  He probably looked more like a slob than usual.  

Grillby looked him over and then shook his head.  He pointed at the messy way Sans had rolled up his sleeves and Sans snorted and held out his arm. Grillby fixed it for him, so it looked neat.  

Sans stood up.  The shirt hung long enough that he could wear it like a nightgown.  "welp.  you know what they say about small packages.“ He looked up at Grillby.  "or i guess you could say i’m ‘fun sized.’  the long and short of it, though, is, hey, it kind of cuts _close to the bone_.  lucky the one part of me that’s not short is my fuse.”  If Grillby liked being reminded how much smaller Sans was than him, the least a pal could do was help him out.  

Grillby partially covered his face with his hands, trying to hide that he was laughing.  

“yeah, i’m something.”  Oh, hey, he got it.  Grillby was making fun of him, and had been since he grabbed the shirt for him.  That was cute, actually.  "this look doesn’t work without the tie though.“

Grillby brightened, literally, and went to retrieve one.  Sans chuckled to himself and shook his head.  When he thought about it, Grillby put up with a lot of bad jokes from him, so he could swim in and simultaneously be strangled by clothes for a few minutes.  

When Grillby came back he didn’t bother handing the bowtie to Sans.  He just put it on, himself, completely de _lighted_.  Sans chuckled, at that one, and told Grillby the joke when he looked curious.  

”…well, you look very handsome.“

"ok.”

Grillby finished fussing with the tie and stepped back to look him over. Sans could tell the exact moment he took in the effect of the dress shirt and tie combined with Sans’ shorts.  

“not the fashion plate you hoped i’d be, huh.”  If he was rummaging around the kitchen looking for something to compare himself to, he was probably more like a fashion spork.  

Grillby shook his head, firm.  

“no, what?  i am or i’m not?  no mirror, so i’m depending on you grillbz.”

“…” Grillby considered.  "…it’s like you said.  You’re _something_.“  He took one last, long look at Sans and burst out laughing.  His head was back and his shoulders were shaking.  Sans only recognized the sound Grillby was making as laughter because he had heard it before, usually a lot quieter.  

Grillby wiped under his glasses and then looked at Sans again, which started it up again.  Sans went over and took Grillby’s hand to lead him back to the couch to sit down.  His own soul felt warm, and if Grillby had calmed down for a second to suggest they go out and get hitched, Sans would have agreed without even thinking about it.  He was already dressed up for it.  

"all right, don’t hurt yourself,” Sans said.  

Grillby wiped away a molten tear and seemed to take a few careful breaths.  “…thank you for putting up with that,” he said.  

“ok. we done?  can i take the tie off?”  

“No.”

Sans laughed.  He started to untie it, himself, and then Grillby helped him out.  Sans tossed the tie off the couch and Grillby suddenly shifted so his head was Sans’ lap.  

Grillby reached up and undid a couple of the top buttons of Sans’ shirt. “…better?”

“yep.”  He wasn’t sure it got better than this.  


End file.
